


Growing on me... like fungus

by j520j



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Guilty Maxwell, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Pos-Constant End, References to Drugs, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, maxwil - Freeform, minor Charlie/Maxwell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: Several one-shots (can be read individually or in sequence) with Maxwell and Wilson orbiting each other - pre-slash.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77





	1. Is this what you were expecting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a beautiful friendship! Maxwell and Wilson meet in person for the first time!
> 
> No beta - feel free to point out any of my grammar atrocities.

“Is this what you were expecting?”

No, Wilson didn't expect that.

He expected a villain, a warlock, a demon. The personification of all his nightmares, because that was what Maxwell represented to him throughout his journey. After witnessing his scary, monstrous illusory form several times, the scientist hoped to find something similar at the end of his adventure. Maybe even worse.

But in front of him was a man who looked... normal? Elegantly dressed, jet black hair with a bit of ‘salt’ on it, soft-spoken, square chin and British accent. Perhaps his most striking feature was his height. He really was as tall as he appeared at times when he communicated with Wilson every time he was brought into a new world.

But in a sitting position, it was difficult to say how tall Maxwell really was. If only he would get up...

"Forgive me if I don't get up."

Oh, yes... the throne. That piece of furniture was really scary.

It looked like it was made of a black substance, similar to nightmare creatures. But it was certainly solid and held the tall man in his seat painfully. His wrists and ankles were tied.

 _How long has he been like this?_ Wilson persisted, loosening his grip on the axe handle. Had he been there longer than the scientist had been before the world? For days, weeks, months... maybe years? He lost count, but he knows there has been at least an entire shift of seasons since Wilson was brought to that hell. Two, actually. Outside, spring was beginning.

Not only him, but other people were brought there. In his travels the scientist met a strong man named Wolfgang, a pyromaniac girl named Willow, a librarian named Wickerbottom, a mute named Wes and... oh, God, a haunted child named Wendy! Even children were dragged to that place!

They all looked as shaken as the scientist when they arrived at Constant. Many lost track of time. He knew that Wickerbottom's last year on Earth had been in 1911. When the scientist said it was already 1921 she was in shock. "It doesn't look like ten years..." she commented. Well, time was an matter of opinion from that Einstein proposed in his new theories.

 _What about Maxwell? Was he there even longer? And did he sit on that throne all the time, listening to that music?_ when Wilson thinks about it, he almost feels sorry for the tall man. Almost.

"You've been an interesting plaything, but I've grown tired of this game." Maxwell spoke again. "Or maybe They've grown tired of me. Heh. Took Them long enough."

 _They?!_ the scientist opened his mouth to ask, but... what would he say? What did it matter to him to know anything at that moment? It was _not_ the time to speak.

It was time to act.

"Maxwell!" Wilson exclaimed at the top of his lungs. He was tired, injured, cold and hungry. He had come this far and it wasn’t to have a chit-chat. “This ends here! Return me to Earth now, you bastard! Return us all to Earth!"

The scientist was swinging the axe menacingly. Tied to that chair, Maxwell was unlikely to react. Still, he didn't seem intimidated.

"It is better not to fight it."

"What?!"

"Don't attack me." the tall man said, in a monotone voice. “The throne won't allow that. I've tried."

 _Oh, that’s rich!_ Wilson attacked.

When the blade was about to touch Maxwell's skin, the shadows of the throne prevented its occupant from being hurt. The axe broke into a thousand pieces, injuring the scientist's hand.

"Aaahhh!" Wilson exclaimed, taking a step back. "Shit! T-that...! You…!"

"Reality is like that, sometimes." was the tall man's reply. "Go on, stay a while. Keep us company."

 _I do NOT believe!_ the shorter man was shaking his head in disbelief. _After all I've been through... all the hell I've been through... can't I do anything?! I can't kill this bastard?! And I can't even go back to Earth?! What good was all my suffering?!_

"Or…" Maxwell spoke again. "... put the key in the box. It's your decision."

 _Key?!_ Wilson looked around, looking for an object that fit that description. When he didn't find it, he took the Divining Rod. "Are you talking about this?"

The man on the throne raised his eyebrows. For an instant, it was almost possible to see hope in his eyes. But then he returned to his expression of habitual pain and tiredness.

"Uh... pal..." he murmured. “... if you use this… you’ll do me a big favor. But... ”he paused. Somehow, it seemed that the bonds of the throne had become tighter and the tall man was in more pain. "... but you will pay a high price."

"What price?"

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak, but the throne jerked, as if to warn him that if he revealed the secret, he would be punished. Severely.

The scientist took a long breath. It seemed that the magician's threats were also a friendly warning. Certainly something terrible would happen to Wilson if he freed the tall man from that suffering. He couldn't act impulsively, he needed to think.

"Well..." the shorter man murmured, uncertainly. "You said I can stay, right?"

…………………………………………………………

The dark palace was well served with food and equipment. Wilson stayed there, in the company of Maxwell, who didn’t speak much after the first day. It was as if every word he spoke sucked in his energy. But at least there was a phrase he said with pleasure:

"Thank you, I've been listening to that song for an eternity." that's what he said when Wilson turned off the phonograph.

"Yeah, no problem." the scientist replied while taking a bow of the stew he had just made. It was good to be able to eat a hot and hearty food after so long chewing raw vegetables in the wilds. He offered the magician a dish. "Do you want some?"

Maxwell just shook his head, but smiled in thanks. Wilson shrugged and started eating in silence. And so were all the meals he ate from then on, sitting beside the black throne. The magician, although he said nothing, seemed satisfied with the company.

The scientist tried to investigate the teleportato. It was clear that that model itself worked differently from the others. The magician tied to the chair was not allowed to tell what that device does, but it was clear that the result wouldn’t be pleasant.

Three days had passed and Wilson was still not close to understanding how it worked. Much less what were those dark forces that ruled that strange world.

"Who are ‘They'?" asked the scientist.

“They control this world. They also control the pawns... the rook... the queen... and me. "

The scientist exhaled, he hated vague answers. But it seems that Maxwell had no choice. The power of darkness didn’t allow him to speak clearly.

Gradually, he began to ask questions that could be answered with 'yes' and 'no'. In this case, the magician didn't even need to open his mouth to speak, he just had to move his head.

"Did you come from Earth, like me?"

Maxwell nodded.

"You came alone?"

Maxwell shook his head.

"Did you attract me here to come and set you free?"

Maxwell nodded.

"But... do you still want me to set you free?"

With a sigh, the magician moved his shoulders, showing uncertainty.

"Will something bad happen to me if I try to set you free?"

When the tall man was about to move his head, the black throne trembled. He let out a yelp of pain when black tentacles enveloped his body even more, preventing him from answering that question. The throne seemed to be choking him, but Maxwell no longer seemed to need to breathe, nor to eat, nor to sleep. But he was still able to feel pain.

"Oh, God!" the scientist approached, raising his hands to try to remove those tentacles from the magician's neck.

"Nnnnnggghh!" Maxwell shouted and Wilson pulled his hands away, getting the message.

After a few moments, the throne returned to normal, just holding the man's arms and legs. He looked tired. Very tired.

…………………………………………………………

"Charlie..."

After living in that wild world for so long, Wilson developed a very light sleep. And that was the reason why even the soft murmur that escaped Maxwell's lips woke him.

He’d made his bed beside the throne. Although he didn’t sleep, it was possible to notice that the magician sometimes entered moments of unconsciousness. The scientist imagined that, at those moments, perhaps Maxwell was communicating with someone in the Constant.

The name ‘Charlie’ came from time to time in those moments.

"Who's Charlie?"

"Ugh!" awakened from his trance, the magician opened his eyes wide and started to look around, frightened. When he rested his eyes on Wilson, he exclaimed, "Don't invoke her!"

Without understanding anything, the scientist witnessed a tremor that took over the palace. The darkness started to get thicker and the throne seemed to be hurting the taller man. Its tentacles felt tighter and tighter.

"Stars!" Wilson exclaimed, taking the Divining Rod. He knew that if he used it, something bad would happen. But he had no choice. The palace was collapsing and Maxwell seemed to be slowly being consumed by darkness. He had to do something.

And he did.

When he placed the Divining Rod on the teleportato, the quake in the palace stopped. The throne released the magician. He fell to his knees and in the next instant...

_Oh, God!_

Darkness consumed him and what remained of him was a skeleton. And then just ashes.

And Wilson was stuck on the throne.

And the phonograph started playing again.

…………………………………………………………

As time went by, a strange renounce came over the scientist at his present situation. He hadn't known how long he had been stuck on the throne, but it certainly should have been days. It was difficult when his biological needs didn’t help to have a notion of time.

Oh, he had that damn song as a metric, but it was hard to pinpoint how many times it had been played. After a while, he barely paid any attention to it.

At times, he felt that his conscience wanted to escape his body and bring him to another place. It wasn’t the same as sleeping, but it gave him some relief. Images of the people who were trapped in Constant appeared before him: Wes, Willow, Wendy, Wolfgang... other people he didn't know also appeared from time to time in his visions. Wilson had the impression that he saw a cook and a woodcutter working together in the middle of the forest, as well as a woman building a sophisticated machine alongside... uh... a human-shaped spider? What was that?

At one point, he saw Maxwell.

The former king was having trouble surviving. He looked extremely tired, injured, hungry. Interestingly, even in those conditions, he still managed to remain dapper. And the powers he developed, starting with that strange book, helped him to keep enemies at bay.

But it was clear that he was on the edge. A little more, and he would be dead. In fact, Wilson wondered if the magician had already died a few times and been resurrected in that hostile world, only to be thrown back into that endless cycle of suffering.

The scientist felt his heart sink with that thought. He had felt it on his skin several times and, oddly enough, he didn't want anyone to go through what he went through, not even his enemy.

He wanted to be there to help him.

…………………………………………………………

"Wake up, child."

Wilson was startled when a voice called him back to reason. He had fallen into yet another of those trances and had been brought back to reality by someone.

In front of him was a very well-dressed woman, with an elegance typical of high-class ladies. She smiled at him tenderly.

"Uh... who are you?" Wilson asked. Although he was happy to see a friendly face, he looked suspicious. _Have we met before?_

The woman said nothing, just smiled. She approached the scientist and, with her long black hands (was she wearing gloves?) the woman touched the bonds made of darkness and freed Wilson from the throne.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, incredulous. The scientist looked at his wrists in disbelief. "Oh, good stars! Thank you! Thank you! What's your name, miss?"

She didn’t answer. The woman just smiled gently one last time, before her lips widened in a sinister smile. Her eyes turn black and menacing.

"W-whaaaat?!"

With a laugh, the woman lifted Wilson with her black tentacles and began to hurt him with what appeared to be an electric shock. The scientist shouted, trying to get free, but it was useless. The pain was very great and he lose consciousness.

…………………………………………………………

Wilson woke up aching and hungry before the portal that led to the dark palace. However, the equipment was destroyed. And he doubted that he would be able to fix it with the little resources the had in the Constant.

Not that he wanted to fix it, at least not anytime soon.

"Ah... well..." the scientist got up. Sunlight was welcome after spending so much time in the dark. "Geez, back to the old game, I suppose."

Stoic, he began to do what he did for a long time: to look for branches and flints in order to make an improvised axe. Chop firewood. Find food. Get ready for the night.

Now he had a new mission: to find others. When he crossed the portal, only he was allowed, so he left his friends behind. He hoped they were fine. He hoped he could find them soon.

Ironically, the first person he met in his travels was not a friend.

"Maxwell?"

Beside an extinguished fire, exhausted and wounded, was the former king of the Constant. Not as majestic as he used to be.

He was his enemy, but Wilson was surprised at how quickly he ran to his side.

The Brit was unconscious, but alive. His hands were... well... they were black, as if darkness had entered his flesh (just like the hands of the woman who freed the scientist from the throne). Remains of a mandrake root was in his hand, indicating that he had to induce himself to an emergency deep sleep.

There were signs of wounds already healing and he didn't look thinner than before, which was good news, but he looked like he was burning with fever.

"Maxwell..." the scientist touched his sweaty forehead gently. “Maxwell, it's me, Wilson. Are you listening to me? Wake up!"

Gradually, the taller man began to come to himself. He blinked a few times, looking at the scientist with a confused expression.

"Ugghhh..." he groaned, wrinkling his face with a grimace of pain. "H-higgsbury?"

The mention of his surname sounded so impersonal to someone with whom Wilson, in a way, already had a considerably long relationship. He frowned, a little uncomfortable. And it was probably at this time that he remembered that the magician wasn’t his friend.

“Well… this is it. You found me." the magician continued speaking with a weak voice. “Now… what are you going to do?”

It was a good question and Wilson found himself speechless, thinking for a moment.

"Are you going to finish your job?"

“Huh?! What job?"

"... kill me..." Maxwell whispered, closing his eyes.

Wilson's brain started working on autopilot: _Ah, yes!_ _That was one of the possibilities that I thought before crossing the portal. A very juicy one._

_But now…_

"What…? W-why, you...!" the scientist grunted. "Idiot! Killing you is not going to help me at all right now! And it seems you have also become a 'pawn', haven't you? Well... two pawns together survive more easily than one alone."

Maxwell's eyes widened at those words. He started to get up with a little difficulty, but Wilson's firm shoulder helped him to his feet. Somehow, the magician was suddenly healthier. The strength and determination returning to his eyes.

"Oh, well..." he adjusted himself. "In this case, pal... we better look for something to eat."

"Yes… let’s go."

While the two walked together through the forest to look for resources, Wilson was still trying to understand his present situation. Of all the scenarios, good and bad, that he had imagined for himself, this was, by far, the most unlikely.

No, Wilson didn't expect that. But sometimes, the unexpected could be surprisingly pleasant.


	2. New face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we had an unimplemented character and Jealous!Wilson. Enjoy.

Wilson was still adapting to that weird situation. After so long, he should be used to the unexpected, but that was too much.

On the one hand, it was good to have a company to help him build structures and get food. On the other hand, it was strange to be with Maxwell, of all people. The man responsible for him being in that hell in the first place.

Before he entered that black palace and had all that trouble with the nightmare throne, the scientist had met other people. Willow, Wes, Wolfgang... plenty of people. Good people.

"You kidnaped everyone, right?" Wilson asked as the two shared some carrots. "How could you?! You haven't even spared a child, like Wendy!”

"Sorry, pal." the magician said, and he seemed sincere. “I wasn't right in the head all the time. Darkness dominated me at various times and I ended up doing unspeakable things. It was never my intention to kidnap people who would probably not survive a single day here, like Wes or Wendy.”

“Well, it wasn't nice to kidnap anyone at all! Not even me or a tough guy like Wolfgang!” the scientist grunted, biting the carrot aggressively.

"Yes, you’re right, you can blame me!" the tall man rolled his eyes. "Although I don't know how it will help in our present situation."

“Yeah… right. Better save our strength. We have work tomorrow.”

Their agreement was one of camaraderie, not friendship. For the first few days they tried to talk as little as necessary, just talking about technical issues, like getting nightmare fuel or repairing fishing rods. But the truth is that, over time, you end up creating a bond with the person who is on your side all the time.

"Where are the others?" Wilson wondered as he baked a fish over the fire. “Are they okay? Why haven't we found any signs of them yet?”

Maxwell heard the scientist's words, but there was no way to answer them. If he were still sitting on the nightmare throne, he could detect them only with the power of his mind. But now he was almost as limited as any of Constant's survivors.

"How many people did you kidnap, anyway?"

The magician looked up from the pages of the Codex Umbra.

"I'm not sure." the tall man frowned. “In recent years, there have been times when my mind has been too clouded for me to understand what was happening. In addition to the people you've met, I remember kidnapping a woodcutter in Canada, an opera actress, a kind of, uh, automaton...? I can't say.”

"Huh." that answer was less than satisfactory. “Well, I hope we find someone else soon. It will be easier to survive if we are in a large group.”

"Not always. They are usually more mouths to feed, more people to watch.”

“Oh, please!”

The magician just nodded. He closed his book and went to his tent. Wilson felt a small spark of guilt. He wanted to talk more. What he missed most about his old group were the conversations.

 _And besides..._ he thought. _...I better find someone else soon to build a friendship. I can't forget that Maxwell is still to blame for everything! It’s better not to be too close to him._

_Although... he's not as bad as I thought._

................................................

"Higgsbury, wake up!"

"What?!" the scientist opened his eyes, startled. In an instinctive movement, he grabbed the spear he kept beside the bed. "What... what is it?! Are we being attacked!? ”

"Not yet. But it looks like your prayers have been heard!” the magician said, with a smile of triumph. “I was hunting this morning and found signs of a small camp. I think the others are not far away.”

"Oh, wonderful!" the scientist smiled as he scratched his five o'clock shade. "Well, let's get going!"

Within minutes, the two collected their most important belongings and followed the path that the magician indicated. It was true, there were signs of camping nearby. And also footprints. Wilson was excited, wondering if he was going to see Willow or Wickerbottom again. The two had a great chat.

After some more walking time, they finally spotted someone in the distance.

"There!" the scientist exclaimed, pointing to a silhouette that was trying to mine a rock. “Hey, hello! We're here!"

The person turned the head and Wilson realized it was someone he didn't know.

He was an old man, with a beard and gray hair, sporting a strange hairstyle (well, who was the scientist to judge other people's hairstyles?). He turned, startled, towards the two strangers, raising his pickaxe defensively.

"W-who a-are y-ye ?!" he stammered, in a way that Wilson barely understood.

"Easy, pal." the magician raised his hands at shoulder level. "We’re not hostile, we just want to help."

“Ach, away ye go!” the man still looked suspicious. Frowning, he raised the pickaxe more aggressively and stood halfway between the two men and the stone he was mining. "Ye won't take my gold!"

"Gold?" it was practically the only thing the scientist understood. The man's accent sounded British, but a little different from Maxwell's. It was denser and slightly incomprehensible to Wilson's ears. “Don't worry, we have some gold nuggets for our needs. We don't need yours.”

"Huh?" the man didn't seem to fully understand, but he relaxed. Still, he still looked suspicious. The shorter man found that attitude a little worrying.

"Who is he?" the scientist finally asked.

"I don’t know him." Maxwell said, although there was doubt in his voice. "What's your name, pal?"

"Wallace." the old man said, chuckling. The scientist didn’t understand the reason for the amusement.

"A pleasure to meet you." the magician said diplomatically. "I'm Maxwell and the young man here is Wilson Higgsbury."

"Not _so_ young." the shorter man said, feeling a strange blush rise to his cheeks.

“Oh, hahaha! That's a real scunner!” Wallace snorted, lowering the pickaxe. “Maxwell, did ye say? Hah, I went through this perdition to find a Scouser here, of all places!”

"Scouser?" Wilson didn't know what that term meant, but the way the old man spoke sounded offensive.

"I'm from Liverpool, southern suburbs." Maxwell explained, unperturbed. The old man seemed to recognize his accent “And I also didn't expect to find a Scotsman at Constant. Well, what do you think about we working together?”

"Hmmm, maybe." he still looked uncertain. "It would be nice to have a fire pit to warm the olde bones, ye know?"

"Very well." Wilson took a long breath and started to do the job.

"Do you want help with that rock, pal?" Maxwell offered, approaching the man with his pickaxe in hand. Gradually, the initial tension between the two began to disappear and they began to talk more amicably.

The scientist, for his part, was unable to sympathize with the Scotsman. Not even a little.

..................................................

The camp was ready when night came. Wilson went out to pick some berries and leave traps near the rabbit holes. When he returned, with the moon already in the middle of the sky, the two Britons were having a lively conversation in front of the fire.

The younger man tried to hear what they were saying, but was perplexed when he noticed that he wasn’t understanding a single word.

"Oh, Higgsbury!" Maxwell waved. "Back already?"

"I... I was away for at least two hours." the scientist was slightly offended that the magician hadn’t noticed his absence. “What language are you speaking in? Is it still English?”

"It's Welsh!" Wallace replied, smiling. “I thought the daft Scousers laddies knew only a little Irish and nothing else. But ye are pretty smart, Maxy!”

"Oh! Thank you." Maxwell rolled his eyes, not taking it as a great compliment. "You’re also not the lummox you appeared to be, Wal."

"We're all Jock Tamson's bairns!" the old man said, grabbing Maxwell's shoulder and pulling him close in a rough hug. The two men laughed with pleasure, as if they were old friends.

And Wilson felt _extremely_ left out.

With a grunt, he decided to retire to sleep in his tent, listening to the laughter and incomprehensible conversation of the two men as he tried to fall asleep.

..................................................

"Higgsbury?"

The scientist had the impression of hearing the magician calling him. In any other occasion, he’d have promptly risen from the bed, but he still felt hurt. A childish hurt, it was true (Wilson tried at all costs to avoid the word 'jealousy'), but that was how he felt.

Turning on his side, willing to sleep more, he just thought _Call your great friend Wal to help you with anything…_

"HIGGSBURY!!!"

 _Oh, fuck!_ this time the scientist got up quickly, startled. His faithful spear is already in his hand.

"What's...?!" he left the tent, stumbling over the blankets. And, for a very little, he didn't have his face bitten by an angry hound.

"Watch out!" the magician exclaimed, sending a shadow puppet to protect the scientist. The shadow sword hit the creature before it tried to bite Wilson a second time.

The dog yelped and the scientist used the moment to pierce it with his spear. Too bad this was a tough monster and it would take more than that to kill it. He forced the weapon forward and, to his despair, the spear broke.

But before the worst happened, the magician came forward with his sword made of shadows. He hit the hound, which whined for the last time.

"Ugh!" the scientist fell to his knees while still holding the broken spear in his hands. "Ouch, waking up in the morning with a monster like tha—!"

His sentence was interrupted when Maxwell knelt beside him. The magician took his face, lifting it, and looked at him with a distressed expression.

"Are you hurt?!"

"Nuh… noooo!" that closeness made the shorter man blush. He took the magician's hands away. “I… I'm fine, Maxwell! Don’t worry!"

"Good." the magician smiled and turned towards Wallace's tent. "Wal, are you okay?"

There was no answer.

"Wal?" the tall man looked concerned. He approached the tent. His second shadow puppet had just killed the other hound...

... but it seems it was not fast enough to prevent the Scotsman from being bitten in the neck.

Wilson gasped when he saw the older man with his head lying in the pool of his own blood. Dead, of course. He turned to Maxwell, who was wide-eyed.

 _Oh, shit! He must be devastated!_ the scientist thought, immediately stroking the magician's back to offer him comfort.

"Oh, good grief." to Wilson's surprise, the Englishman seemed less saddened than he expected. "Well, I hope Wallace used a Touch Stone before we met."

Since there was no point in wasting energy burying the dead in the Constant, the two men simply collected the camp and went on their way. It looks like they would be on their own for a little while.

After walking for some time, the scientist broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Maxwell."

"Uh?" the magician looked in the direction of the shorter man. "Are you sorry for what?"

"For your loss. For your friend." Wilson sighed, feeling ashamed of the jealousy he felt the day before. "You two seemed to be getting along."

"It’s true." the magician nodded slightly. “Well, but I'm not sorry that I saved you instead of him. We both have a much longer friendship ahead of us, right, pal?”

"Oh!" the scientist chuckled, feeling the heat rise to his face. "Y-yeah, sure!"

And the two walked together through the forest. It seems that their bonds would become even stronger after that.


	3. Cigars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Wilson discovers a new flavor. A lustful one.

"Ah!"

Wilson heard Maxwell's exclamation and startled. Well, after so long living at Constant, absolutely everything scared him. But he'd become accustomed to being especially more concerned about his partner in misfortune. The magician was a fragile creature.

"Maxwell?!" he leave the axe stucked in the tree and ran to where the taller man was kneeling. "What happened?! Something wrong?"

“Oh, absolutely nothing wrong, pal! On the contrary!" he stood up, a handful of unknown plants in his hand. "See what I found!"

"Uh..." botany wasn't Wilson's specialty, so he didn't seem very excited when the magician introduced him to what, in his view, was just a bunch of leaves. "What is this?"

"It's tobacco!" the Briton said triumphantly. “Ah, how lucky to find some of them here! I've been hungry for a good cigar since I left that damn throne!”

"Oh, right." the younger man opened his eyes wide, remembering that Maxwell always appeared before him with a cigar in his hands. “I almost forgot that you used to smoke. By the way, when you were stuck on the throne, how did you manage to do this?”

“Well, I no longer had certain biological needs, or even addictions, when I was there. I could use black magic to conjure cigars for my recreation, however... ”the magician placed the leaves in his bag and crouched down again to harvest more. “... nothing tasted the same as the wonderful cigars I got from some Cuban immigrants in San Francisco. Obviously, I won't be able to come close to reproducing them with this wild tobacco, but it's something.”

"Got it. Well, I'll let you pick your leaves. ” Wilson said, smiling and shaking his head. Back to the tree and the axe, then.

........................................

Maxwell spent the rest of the day looking at the ground, looking for more varieties of tobacco. And he found them. That region of Constant, it seemed, had other nicotine plant species. He selected three varieties and then dehydrated them with the help of an improvised oven.

He crushed the dehydrated leaves, mixing them carefully and stored the herbs in a rabbit fur bag. Maxwell took a sheet of papyrus and scraped it until it got a smoother and finer texture. He cut the sheet into squares and took some beeswax to use as glue. It took a lot of work, but after two days of dedication he had managed to manufacture six cigars.

"Jolly good!" he exclaimed to himself when he saw his masterpiece. "It's a shame that they look so rustic, but I really hope they taste good."

"Good job." Wilson said. Although the magician has hardly helped the camp since he started devoting himself to cigars, the younger man was happy for his companion.

Cutting one end with a blade, Maxwell raised the cigar to his lips and lit it. He drew in the smoke several times, making the other tip red. When he released the first puff in the air, he smiled with pleasure.

"Hmmmm!" he let out a groan of pleasure before bringing the cigar to his mouth again. He pulled out the smoke and released it again, exulted. “Hmmm, wonderful! I don't know if it's because of the abstinence, but this seems like the sweetest cigar I've ever tasted!”

"From the smell, it's hard to believe." Wilson said, fanning the smoke away from his face.

"Oh." the magician's eyes widened. “Sorry, pal. I didn't know you didn't like tobacco.”

"Don't worry, be my guest." the scientist smiled sincerely. "We're outdoors anyway."

"Have you never smoked?"

“Some cigarettes at school. Heh, everyone always smokes during school, right?” the younger man chuckled. “My father smoked a pipe and once I caught it secretly. But it was more difficult than it looked. I couldn't even light it.”

"Pipes are actually a little more complex to smoke." Maxwell agreed, bringing the tip of his cigar to his mouth and sliding it across his fleshy lips. “It depends on the type of wood, the shape of the pipe-holder and even the type of tobacco. My father also smoked a pipe, I think all the old chaps did. I remember he taught me how to smoke when I was thirteen... ”

For a few moments, Wilson's hearing seemed to shut off. He was listening to nothing more than what Maxwell was saying. However, his gaze became much sharper as he watched the scene before him.

The magician brought the cigar to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the cylinder and making the suction movement. And this simple movement was enough to bring the scientist's mind to the gutter.

Unconsciously, the shorter man leaned forward, slowly closing his legs. The heat that welled up from the base of his stomach announcing something very inconvenient was happening to his body. Maxwell continued to speak, continually bringing the cigar to his mouth, until...

"... you're not interested, are you?" the Briton said with a frown.

"Huh?!" Wilson practically jumped off the log where he was sitting. “Ah, s-sorry, Maxwell! Is that... I... I remembered that we need to collect more firewood! And hurry!”

“Firewood? We already have enough to... ”

“Oh, right, I was wrong! We need stones!” the scientist reached for his bag, taking the pickaxe and quickly turning his back to the magician. “We, uh... can talk again at night! First, to work!”

The taller man seemed stunned by that sudden change in attitude, standing still where he was sitting. And Wilson thanked the heavens for that.

 _Stars! I hope he doesn't come after me for the next ten minutes!_ the scientist thought, trying to get as far away from the camp as possible and to find a discreet place to relieve the pressure that had formed between his legs.

............................................................

The day followed and the two men exchanged few words. When night came, Wilson went to his bed roll next to the alchemy machine. The night was hot and he didn't need to be near the fire, where Maxwell was currently sitting, reading his book.

The scientist took a long breath, still feeling ashamed of his behavior that morning. The truth is that he already felt a slight attraction for the Briton, but he thought it was just nonsense caused by the long time of solitude. When he was in the company of the other survivors, Wilson also felt something similar about Willow, but he knew it was a passing thing.

"I need more gems." the magician announced, taking a shovel. "I won't be long."

"Be careful." Wilson offered, although he knew that Maxwell was better able to do this kind of task than he was.

When the taller man left the camp, the scientist went to one of the chests to look for something to nibble. Inside one of them, he found a half-cigar. The same as Maxwell was smoking that morning.

Wilson remembered the magician saying that he wouldn't smoke an entire cigar at once, since it was necessary to save them. He was going to try to create a basic farm to grow tobacco as soon as the two of them collected enough resources.

The scientist took the cigar in his hands. One end was burnt, obviously. The other was cut and slightly wrinkled. It was where the magician had put his mouth.

Almost without realizing it, Wilson raised the cigar to his lips. He closed his eyes and began to imagine something he shouldn't have. He imagined touching Maxwell's lips with his own. He imagined his tongue sliding into his mouth. He imagined a scene that hadn't happened that morning, but that he would have liked to have happened.

Remembering the cigar smoke, he began to imagine the taste. What would the magician's mouth taste like? How many ‘tricks’ should he know how to do with his tongue?

"Smoking in secret, brat?"

"AAAAHHH!!!" Wilson jumped forward, knocking over the chest and scattering the things inside. The half-cigar was still in his hand. "I'm s-sorry, I... I d-didn't mean to... I... ah...!"

"Whoa, easy, pal!" Maxwell laughed. “You're an adult. If you want to smoke, it's your problem.”

"Uh... b-but I... I was...!" he didn't want to admit what he was doing. "I was going to steal one of your cigars...!"

"Steal?!" the magician's eyes widened in disbelief. He still had the dirt-shoveled shovel in his hands and set it aside. Kneeling down, he began to collect the things that had fallen out of the chest. “Higgsbury, you know what is mine is yours. In fact, it's all ours. We're working on this together, right, pal?”

"Oh... of course! But... uh... you like cigars so much! And they are so scarce.”

"No problem. If you want to try them, feel free. It's good to have a partner to smoke. ”

"Oh really?" Wilson chuckled. "Well, I... uh... so I think I would like to try."

"Sure. Let me get fire.”

Maxwell took a stick and lit it on the fire pit. He offered the flame to Wilson. A little uncertain, the scientist touched the glowing tip on the cigar while drawing air. He ended up swallowing the smoke and had a coughing fit. The magician took the cigar out of his hands and started pat him on the back.

“Oops! Higgsbury, I forgot to warn you: when you take a cigar you can't swallow the smoke. It's not like a cigarette.”

“Coooooofff! Cooooofff! Aghhhh...! ” rubbing his eyes, which filled with tears, the scientist grimaced. “Shit! How is it... how do you do this?!”

“You just pull the smoke into your mouth and then let it out. I say: smoking a cigar is practically a gastronomic experience.”

To demonstrate, Maxwell took the cigar to his mouth and lit it again. He pulled out the smoke and released it, smiling with pleasure. He offered it to Wilson.

"Try again."

Grateful that they were away from the campfire and that the low light didn't allow the magician to see how flushed he was, the scientist raised the tip of the cigar to his lips, trying to control the thoughts that... _oh, Stars! Maxwell's mouth was there a few seconds ago._

Wilson pulled the smoke and kept it in his mouth. The warm sensation was strange, but it was more pleasant than when he smoked a cigarette for the first time in his teens. The aroma was not bad, and the taste on his tongue was slightly sweet, as Maxwell had told him.

The scientist slowly released the smoke under the watchful eye of the magician.

"Very good, pal." the man looked almost proud. "And? What do you think?"

"Well..." Wilson smiled and looked at the cigar in his hands. “I can understand why this is relaxing, you need to control your breathing. And I believe that tobacco should also help to reduce hunger.”

"Yes, a cigar can be more useful than you think." the Englishman extended his hand, indicating that it was his turn.

Wilson held out the cigar and watched Maxwell smoke it with pleasure. The two alternated and the scientist marveled at the bond of intimacy that had formed between them so unexpectedly.

After a few minutes, the cigar ran out and Wilson pouted.

“Sorry, pal. I think I just turned you into a smoker.” the taller man said, smiling.

"Don't worry, there are far worse addictions." the scientist looked away, embarrassed. "I think I will sleep more peacefully today."

"Very well. Then go to rest, Higgsbury. I'll be on guard this night.”

Without arguing, Wilson went to his bed roll. Just before falling asleep the scientist touched his own lips. The taste of the cigar was still in his mouth and he was sure that Maxwell's lips should taste the same now.

Yes, that night he did have a comforting sleep.


	4. I wanna know your darkness too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: a little spat, a strange vision and a cute reconciliation.

“Well... that escalated quickly!” Wilson murmured.

Wilson and Maxwell had left the camp to get some spider eggs. They expected some problems with the arachnids and perhaps even with the pigmen. If they were very unlucky, they could find hounds along the way too.

But at the moment, they were running away from bees, beefalos, frogs, deerclops and merms - in addition to spiders, pigmen and hounds, obviously. A crowd chased them beyond the base camp and they had to take refuge farther south, away from their tents and the other protective structures they had set up.

When they finally managed to catch their breath, amid the twisted trees and evil flowers, they spent some of their energy arguing.

"What was that idea, Higgsbury?!" Maxwell exclaimed. His hands were blackened from the use of nightmare fuel, which, at the moment, had run out. His last shadow puppet had been sacrificed to ensure that both of them escaped the crowd of savage killers. “I told you to _not_ use fire! There were hives close by! And we were very close to the swamp!”

"Well, forgive me if I didn't have any tools left because my axe had broken and you forgot to bring flints!" the scientist said, in his defense. “I only had one torch available! You should have called on one of your puppets to do the job!”

"I was trying to save nightmare fuel!"

"And it looks like you had to spend it the same way!"

“It's not that hard to find flints! You should have looked for some before using the torch!”

"There were no flints around!"

"Did you even look for it?!"

The slight hesitation denounced the ‘no’, but Wilson replied at once: “Hey, why only me need to look for these basic supplies?! Can't the Great Maxwell take the trouble to do the legwork of mere mortals every now and then?”

"Why, you...!" the taller man took an angry step forward. “And wouldn't a scientist as intelligent as you be aware of the dangers of setting everything on fire indiscriminately?! Did you get this bad habit from that Willow girl?”

"Hey! Don't use someone else's disorder as an argument!” Wilson felt he had a duty to protect the pyromaniac girl, even though she wasn’t around. “And don't insult me! I took a calculated risk that didn't work. It happens every now and then!”

"Oh, in your case it looks like it's a little more regular than it should be!" the magician crossed his arms, smiling playfully. “Otherwise, your chemical solutions wouldn’t continue to explode in your face! Remember? This was the reason why you followed my instructions on the radio in the first place.”

"What...?!" the scientist felt the anger begin to rise inside his chest. That episode was still a painful wound on his ego. Mainly because of the fact that he was so easily deceived by Maxwell.

"Ah, that face of yours! It looks like you remember what it was like!" Maxwell, the traitor, continued to speak in that mocking tone. "I should know that for someone who willingly accepts prohibited knowledge from an unknown source, I shouldn't be delegating so many responsibilities!"

"Hah, said the man who used dark magic for his own benefit in the first place!" the younger man exclaimed, taking a step forward. “You can't talk about responsibilities, Maxwell! In fact, you are the last person who could complain about dangerous situations! You put me and everyone else in this situation in the first place! The fault of absolutely everything is yours!”

It was possible to see the magician's thin chest swelling and their nostrils to expand. He was breathing hard, with an angry expression on his face. And, soon after, with an expression of pain.

"Uh... Maxwell..." the scientist interrupted his speech, regretting what he had said. "I... I don't..."

"Hush." the magician asked, shaking his head and walking away. "Just... be quiet, Higgsbury! And leave me alone for a few minutes.”

The tall man walked towards a gnarled tree, sitting on the roots. He took a long breath and hugged the Codex Umbra to his chest. Wilson bravely resisted the temptation to run up to him and apologize.

 _Now, I... I don't have to apologize, do I?_ the younger man thought as he turned and started looking for stone flints to made an axe and get firewood. _I didn't tell any lies! Maxwell has no morals to talk about mistakes or responsibilities! Not after everything he did!_

Although the scientist wasn’t wrong about this, he still felt bad about what he had said to the magician.

……………………………………………………….

Night came and Maxwell remained quiet the entire time. He refused food and rejected any attempt at conversation. A sulky attitude, but Wilson didn’t insist. Next to the fire, the Brit flipped through the pages of his book.

"I'm going to get some sleep." the scientist announced, pulling out his bed roll. "Wake me up if you need anything."

The magician didn’t answer. He only looked up from the pages for a moment, to make it clear that he had heard Wilson's words, but soon returned to his reading.

Sighing, the younger man covered his body and laid his head on the floor, trying to fall asleep. He was feeling very tired and hoped he could fall asleep quickly.

An hour passed.

Wilson rolled a few times, uncomfortable. He looked into the darkness, watching the fireflies that shone in the middle of the night. If the two were in his base camp, he would pick up the net and hunt down some insects. It would be a good distraction.

He turned his head towards the fire. The flames danced in the darkness. The scientist kept his eyes on the light, trying to put any unwanted thoughts out of his head. He closed his eyes, opened his eyes, snorted. It was really difficult to fall asleep.

It was then that, looking in Maxwell's direction, he noticed something... strange.

For a moment, he had the impression that it wasn’t the magician who was sitting on a log near the fire, but someone else. Someone of the same height, similar face, but at the same time different. He looked like a younger man, with a different hairstyle, simple clothes and wearing a pair of glasses.

He was a man Wilson had never seen in his life, but at the same time he was sure that he knew him. It seemed to be a slightly younger version of the Englishman, without those dark circles of remorse around his eyes and looking more... happy? Oh, the man was smiling! An innocent smile from someone who has just discovered something new and exciting. The soft look behind the spectacle lenses that looked hopeful.

"Maxwell?" the scientist called.

The mysterious man turned his face towards the scientist and, in the next instant, he was no longer a mysterious man.

"Hm?" there he was: the magician with the long face, dark circles, well-combed hair and elegant clothes - although worn. “What is it, Higgsbury? Can't sleep?”

The scientist didn’t respond. He was still looking at the tall man with an expression of surprise. _I am getting crazy?!_ he thought, swallowing hard. _Perhaps… I had to collect some evil flowers to use fuel for the fire._

"Uh... nothing!" Wilson replied at last. "Nothing, I think... I thought I saw something strange, but it was nothing."

"Hm." the British replied. "Well, it's better to close your eyes and sleep, so you won't see anything strange anymore."

That was probably good advice. But the scientist was too stubborn and too reckless to follow it.

"Maxwell..." he murmured.

"What's it?" the older man rolled his eyes.

"Sorry."

"What? Why are you apologizing?"

"From what I said." Wilson sighed. "I was… very hard on my words."

"Oh, Higgsbury." the magician smiled. “You have, with absolute certainty, said nothing worse than I have said it to myself multiple times. In fact, I think you should be even tougher on me, so I wouldn't dare open my big mouth to criticize anything you do. I know I don't have that right.”

"No." the scientist insisted, sitting on his bed roll. “Causing you more pain is not going to make things better. You were once naive too, weren't you? You were also deceived. And you are also paying the price, I know. Throwing more blame on your shoulders is not the solution.”

Maxwell watched Wilson with a sad expression. He looked down for a moment ( _it’s my imagination or Maxwell’s eyes are… wet?)_ took a long breath to compose himself and shook his head.

"Well, I... uh... maybe we should really stick to the practical question of our situation." the magician cleared his throat. “No more fights or little spats, just a rational analysis of the problems. I think it will be better this way, innit?”

"Yes." the younger man had to agree. “In this case, a rational analysis of the situation at the moment is that you also need rest. Come, sleep with me.”

The way Wilson said that last sentence sounded a little wrong and made both men open their eyes wide.

"Uh... I m-mean, on my side! Let's split the bed roll. I made it big enough to fit both of us.”

"I need to be on my guard…" was it the scientist's impression, or had the Englishman flushed?

“No, you don't have to. I slept several nights alone. There is no need for someone to stand guard every night.” he made space next to him in the bed roll. “Come on. I will sleep better if I know that in the morning, you will not be falling asleep and delaying us on our walk back to camp.”

"Hmpf, fine!" even Wilson noticed that the irritation was feigned. Maxwell seemed quite pleased with the idea of sharing a bed with the scientist.

The two lay down, back to back, beside the fire. At first, the two were a little rigid, afraid to invade each other's personal space. It took a few minutes for the two men to relax, enjoying the warmth they shared in that short distance.

"Maxwell?" the scientist called, yawning.

"What?"

"Did you... have you ever worn glasses?"

"Uh?" the magician turned his head. "Where did this question come from?"

"Sorry." he asked, swallowing hard. "It was just a silly question."

The two were silent for a few more minutes, until the taller man responded.

"Yes, I already needed glasses... a long time ago."

"Oh." Wilson murmured. And then he was silent for the rest of the night.

There still seemed to be a lot to discover about Maxwell. And the scientist wanted to discover these things, however strange and painful they could be. _I wanna know your darkness too... your whole self._

...........................................

**One of the scenes in this chapter was inspired by this[beautiful art](https://momosweetpeach.tumblr.com/post/181072943903/self-indulgent-over-draw-of-porco-rosso-i-adore) by Momo, on tumbrl! **


	5. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson and Maxwell find other survivors... and we learn a little bit more about the headcanon.

From the way Wilson ran - or rather, hopped in joy - towards the clearing that was right in front of them, Maxwell could have sworn he had found his way back home. But not. Not yet.

"Guys!" he shouted, exulted with happiness. “Willow! Wes! Wolfgang! Mrs. Wickerbottom! Wendy! I finally found you all!”

Maxwell knew those names. He knew each one of those people and he suspected that they also remembered him very well the first time they were brought to Constant. The prospect of meeting them again didn't please him at all.

"Wilson!" the pyromaniac girl ran towards him and hugged him. “Oh, you are alive! I knew it!"

“Smart little man!” the strong man also ran, lifting Wilson, along with Willow, in his arms. "You came back!"

"You really worried us, young man!" the librarian approached, smiling at the newcomer. "It's been weeks, months since we heard from you!"

The mimic also ran towards the group, making clear signs of happiness with his hands.

"So death has not yet claimed you." Wendy said, in a wry voice, but with a smile. "I think Abigail and I can be satisfied."

Wolfgang put Wilson down. The scientist was still enjoying his friends' warm welcome when they turned to Maxwell.

"Oh... and who is this gentleman who accompanies you, Wilson?" Wickerbottom adjusted her glasses, by her expression she was willing to be blind at the moment. "Is he, by any chance... who do I _think_ he is?!"

 _Uh-oh...!_ Maxwell thought, already thinking about turning on his heel and running.

"Evil man!" Wolfgang exclaimed, running towards him with clenched fists. "Evil man is here!"

"Wolf, wait!" Wilson shouted, running towards him. But the weightlifter's muscular legs were faster and longer than his.

Maxwell swallowed an expletive that didn't have time to get out of his throat before it was squeezed by the larger man's callused hand. He brought his thin hands weakly to the wrist of the continental, even though he knew he couldn't do much. Fortunately, the scientist took the strong man's arm.

“Stop, Wolf! Don't hurt him!” Wilson asked, since he didn't have enough strength to open the fingers of that huge hand that clutched the magician's thin neck. "Let me explain things first!"

The weightlifter released him and Maxwell fell on his back on the floor, which didn't help his breathing much. Sucking in the air like a drowned man, he stroked his throat, coughed a few times and looked up. The other survivors were already surrounding him.

None of them said anything, but the cut-neck sign that Wes did made the tall man wince.

"Well, I guess you all know who he is already: yes, he is the infamous Maxwell." the scientist knelt beside the older man and put his arm around his shoulder protectively. The Englishman felt his face flush with that gesture and thanked him for his shortness of breath, which could be interpreted as the reason why his face was red. “But before you hang him on a rope, I need to explain everything that happened. Everything I saw when I crossed the portal and visited several worlds until I reached him.”

"Humpf, very well." Willow put out the lighter in her hands. “Explain, then. And I hope the explanation is good!”

It may not have been very good, but the explanation was long. After half an hour, with many questions, protests, snarls and a pile of burning logs, Wilson explained everything that had happened, making it possible for the other survivors to understand that, at the moment, Maxwell was in the same situation as them. And that, in a certain way, he was also a victim of the situation.

"Quite the story." Wickerbottom said, adjusting her glasses. “So, Mr. Carter... this is your real name, isn't it? Mr. Carter, have you been messing with dangerous things and ended up having your mind dominated by the shadows? I just don't understand yet why you dragged us all to this place.”

"Well..." it was really hard to find a justification for that, but he tried. "Shadows have made me a king, and what is the point of being a king if you have no subjects?" he wrinkled his nose, knowing that that statement wasn't helping his situation much.

"And why we, specifically?" Willow asked, with a frown.

“The shadows... They... They feed on negative feelings. They take all the bad feelings you already have inside you, such as frustration, anger, fear... and empower them. When I was abducted by the shadows and tied to the throne, they offered me a semi-omniscience that allowed me to have contact with the Earth. I could smell people who had negative feelings that would be 'appetizing' for them and thus bring them to Constant through a bargain."

He paused to observe his audience's reaction. They all frowned, as if they were remembering the first moment Maxwell came into contact with them. The magician cleared his throat and made an extravagant hand movement - an old magician's habit to disorient the audience while he pulls a card from his sleeve (although at the moment he had few available).

“Yes, I know. I took advantage of your sadness. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, I know this is too much. I took advantage of your moments of weakness to bring you here. All of you."

The mime made a gesture that indicated doubt and then made the number 'one' with his hands.

"The first one? I don't remember who I first brought to this world.” _Uh, it's better not to mention the detail that not everyone who ended up here managed to survive._ Maxwell thought. "But I know that I contacted Mrs. Wickerbottom around 1911. When the bookstore in New York caught fire and you were devastated by the loss of so much knowledge."

"I remember it well." the librarian took a long breath. "I would do anything to keep those rare books from being destroyed."

"Soon after, I believe it was young Wendy's turn, in 1914." Maxwell did his best to avoid mentioning that she was his niece. Fortunately, none of those present had yet made the connection between his surname and that of the girl. ‘Carter’ wasn’t such an unusual surname, after all.

“I really wanted to be able to talk to my sister again. With Abigail.” the little girl said, her eyes showed no negative emotion, it was possible to say that she almost seemed happy. “And you gave me that. I am very grateful.”

The survivors looked at each other, uncomfortable. What Wendy said was not a lie, she was really grateful and seemed to be the only one in the group who didn't bother being brought to Constant so much.

"Uh, as I was saying..." the magician scratched the back of his neck. “I can't say the exact date I started picking up all of you. In any case, the process was the same: at some point you were enveloped in very negative feelings, I got in touch, made a proposal, and you accepted it. That simple."

"Well, I remember it was 1921 when I first heard your voice on the radio." Wilson said, looking down. “And that makes me think about one thing: we were all brought here in different years, but I don't think anyone has aged more than a few days here. Wendy, for example, should have been a teenager by now. And you, Maxwell... ” the scientist paused. “... you were brought here in 1906, weren't you? How old were you at the time?”

"I was forty years old." the magician said, shrugging.

"Oh, so you're from 1866?" Wickerbottom laughed. "My oldest daughter is your age."

A surprised expression formed on everyone's face. This was the first time that the librarian mentioned anything about her family. She was always very secretive.

"I mean, she's certainly over forty now." the old lady continued. “I, for my part, was 65 when I was brought here. I can't say that the time I spent here helped my physical condition a lot, but I don't think I have gotten much worse since my last day in our world. But if our young scientist is correct, then the time flow outside has nothing to do with the time here. In fact, I wonder if we're not in the 21st century by now.”

The idea alarmed some of them.

"I think not. I don't think that much time has passed.” Maxwell said, although he didn't want to confess that he was not sure. "In any case, I believe Higgsbury was the last one."

"And are you sure that Mrs. Wickerbottom was the first?" Willow asked, frowning.

"I..." the magician cleared his throat. "I'm pretty sure."

"Well, you better think again, because Winona said that her younger sister had been missing for over ten years when she finally saw her in a strange portal in 1919 that brought her into this world."

Maxwell and Wilson looked at each other.

" _Who's_ Winona?!" the two asked at the same time.

"Ah yes! I almost forgot to mention it.” the girl smiled. “We found two more survivors, Winona and Weeber. They wandered alone for a while until they joined us. Oh, and by the way... ”the girl got up from the rock where she was sitting. “I think they are coming back now. They had gone out to get some cobwebs.”

On the horizon, the silhouette of two people was visible. One of them was... very strange. A short person, barely bigger than Wendy, who had the face of a spider. The other silhouette was that of a strong, tall woman who, although her features were somewhat dull, Maxwell was able to recognize some familiarity in her features with a person from his past.

 _Younger sister, she said?!_ the Englishman opened his eyes wide when he remembered something Charlie had told him. _Wait, it's possible...?!_

"Oh, new faces?" Winona smiled. She carried a basket of cobwebs and spider eggs. “Sorry I'm late, guys. Me and Webber had to walk a lot to find the nests. Who are our new companions in misfortune?”

"This young man is William Percival Hibbsbury, Winona." Wickerbottom said, making the introductions. “We talked about him, remember? He is finally back, safe and sound! And this one is... well, before I introduce you, tell me: do you know him?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, confused. She shook her head at first, until her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Wait... are you 'the' Maxie?!"

The magician was almost certain that he hadn't been responsible for the woman's coming to Constant. Still, he wondered if he should run. The idea seemed right, although it was executed too late when the woman grabbed him by the collar.

"Where's my sister?!" she screamed, shaking him hard. "Where's Charlie?! I know she's here somewhere and I know you have something to do with it, you toff! Come on, say it!”

"Stop!" Wilson grabbed the woman's arms and, to his surprise, were almost as strong as Wolfgang's. “Madam, please! Let us explain the situation first!”

"The guy who said he could help me!" the creature whose name was Webber spoke for the first time. "That jerk tricked me!”

 _Oh, great! I barely escaped a choke, now I'm going to suffer another one?!_ Maxwell thought, turning away from Winona. _And this arachnid creature?! I don't even know what he is!_

"Please, let's cool down?!" Willow asked, lighting his lighter menacingly. “Winona, remember that we talked that the guy you suspected was missing with your sister could be the one who brought us to this place? Yeah, here he is! Maxwell! But I think there is more history behind all this and I would prefer that he stay alive to tell us.”

"Humpf, you can talk!" the woman calmed down a little, but was still irritated. "And you can start by telling me where Charlie is!"

"Charlie ..." the magician almost felt physical pain when he pronounced that name. "Charlotte... she's... she's sitting on the Nightmare Throne! She is the current ruler of this world! ”

Everyone looked at each other. The idea that Maxwell was no longer the king was still very new to everyone and the fact that he had been overthrown by a new character, hitherto unknown to most (except Winona and Wilson) made them tense.

"What did you do to her?!" the woman took a step forward, just not grabbing the magician by the collar again because the scientist stood in front of her.

"You missed a good part of the story we were telling." Wilson said, seriously. "Please calm down."

"Oh, who are you to ask me to calm down, shortie?" Winona asked, with contempt. “Are you by any chance the bodyguard of this fop? His protector? His boyfriend?"

The last question almost made the Englishman have a fit. Wilson bit his lip, a furious blush went up his face, and he tried desperately to change the subject.

"Sit down, everyone, please!" he asked. "Here, everyone already knows me, except for you and for... for... uh..."

"Webber." said the strange boy, holding out one paw. “Don't worry, I don't bite. Unlike the spider that devoured me.”

"Uh... did a spider devour you?" the scientist shook that one paw with a little shiver running down his spine. "I dont understand!"

"I think I'm starting to remember." Maxwell said, also approaching for a greeting. “You're the boy who was neglected by his parents and who had only spiders as his friends, right? Yes I recall. You asked me for more friends.”

"Yeah... but being brought here, and very close to a giant spider's nest, wasn't quite what I had in mind."

The survivors looked at Maxwell in horror.

"But it's alright." Webber shrugged, smiling. “I wouldn't live long if I stayed in that basement. And the spiders here are really my good friends now. ”

"Uh... right..." the magician swallowed. "I apologize anyway, I..." he looked around. All the survivors - with the exception of Wilson and Wendy - looked at him with a look so sharp that he could taste his own blood. “I… excuse me. I'm afraid I have nothing better to do or say for you at the moment... sorry.”

An awkward silence formed soon after. The scientist cleared his throat, standing beside the magician.

“We are all going to focus on our present situation, right? We are nine people in this camp. I think we can all work together in harmony.”

Always pragmatic, Mrs. Wickerbottom nodded. Maxwell sighed with relief. It seemed that the librarian, along with the scientist, the spider child and the haunted girl had already given up on the idea of trying to kill him. Now, he needed to convince the other five.

..................................................

Night fell and everyone started preparing for their night shifts. They still didn't trust Maxwell enough to leave him to this task. Not that the magician was complaining, he really needed a break. He was sleeping in the tent Wilson used before going on his adventure to the Nightmare Throne. It was spacious enough for him and Maxwell.

Due to his somewhat unstable situation, the magician woke up from his light sleep from time to time when I heard a nearby noise. It would be difficult to get used to the movement of that camp. He could see the shadows of the other survivors passing in front of the fire. _When will one of these shadows come towards me to strangle me?_ the magician thought, restless.

And it was just when he thought about it that one of the shadows started to approach. The instinct for self-preservation almost made him jump, but soon the characteristic silhouette of Wilson's head made him relax.

"Still awake?" the scientist asked, entering the tent.

"A little hard to fall asleep when you know the whole camp wants to kill you." Maxwell offered, with a sigh.

“Give them time. It's not easy to change an opinion so quickly. They hardly know you. They will soon understand that you too are a victim of circumstances. ”

"That's a pretty lie." the magician's eyes were grave. “This _is_ all my fault, Higgsbury. You know that and everyone out there knows it too. I got stuck here, along with Charlie, because of my own stupidity. I became a captive king and started kidnapping people in psychological pain. Then, I started to challenge them with an adventure to free me from the bloody throne. You were the one who went the furthest, and in the end, I didn't even have enough competence to die. I should have stayed like a pile of dry bones, it would have been more pity than I ever deserved.”

"Hey, stop it!" Wilson approached, placing a hand on the magician's shoulder. "I don't think you deserve death, Maxwell."

"But severe punishment would be adequate."

"Perhaps." the scientist smiled. “I think you were punished for your crimes even before you committed them. I know there are people here who want to hurt you, especially the one from Winona, whom I still don't know very well. But if this reassures you, I’ll do my best not to let them hurt you.”

"Higgsbury." the Englishman never ceased to be surprised by his young friend's immense kindness. Especially since he, perhaps even more than the others, suffered a lot at Maxwell's hands. The highest nail is the one with the most hammering. “I thank you, but I don't want you to put yourself in danger, or even in a situation that could cause problems for you with the rest of the group. They all seem to like you very much and I fully understand why. Please do not risk your reputation to protect a lost cause like me. ”

"You are not a lost cause, Maxwell!" the scientist approached (perhaps a little too much) the tall man. “And I'm not going to let you get lost any more. Whatever happens, I will protect you!”

The two men stared at each other for a long time, until keeping their gaze on them started to become uncomfortable. The scientist was the first to look away, embarrassed.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why, Higgsbury?" Maxwell's voice was barely audible. "After everything I've done... why do you still want to protect me?"

"Uh... well, because..." an angry blush rose in the younger man's face, but he kept his composure. “Because we are friends. After all, you were my only friend for a long time, Maxwell. Since the day I heard your voice on the radio. Yes, I know I have plenty of reasons to hate you... I think maybe you even _want_ me to hate you, don't you? But I can't hate you. Despite everything, I consider you as a... friend.”

That word, 'friend', sounded bittersweet in both of their ears.

"Thank you." the magician said at last. "Thank you, I will also do my best to protect you too... when my bad reputation inevitably starts to splash on you."

“Oh, let's not think about it now. Let's go to sleep, okay?”

The two men lay down, as they had done several times on other nights, back to back. The tent was not very big and they needed to be well together so as not to run the risk of bumping into the wooden rods that supported it. The thought of turning towards each other and sleeping on the spoon passed through their minds. But...

No. At least not that night. Neither of them wanted to risk losing what was sustained between them: friendship.

If there was room for anything else, only time could tell.


	6. You've grown on me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson has shown increasing interest in Maxwell. And the magician decides to tell the scientist more sordid details of his life, even though he knows that this can take Wilson away from him forever (and maybe it's for the best).

"Is she your niece?!?"

Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment, unable to meet Wilson's eyes. But then he thought it best to open his eyes to prepare for the moment when the punch would come.

"Yes." the magician admitted, sighing. “Wendy is my niece. My brother Jack's daughter. I... I didn't know her personally before because I was in the United States when she was born. She and her sister.”

The scientist had an expression of complete astonishment. Maxwell just shook his head.

“As you already know, I was able to get in touch with people who had a lot of low-vibration feelings, such as sadness, resentment and frustration. When I captured Wendy in 1914, she was already haunted by her sister, who had passed away the year before. That seemed peculiar to me: two souls connected, even after the death of one of them, accumulating a great amount of bitterness. I made the bargain, she accepted and... well, she ended up here.”

Wilson was still speechless and stayed like that for a few more seconds, until his expression changed to anger and he started screaming:

"H-how... can you?!" he advanced on Maxwell, grabbing him by the collar (which forced the taller man to lean over). “Your _own niece!_ Your own blood!” he shook him angrily. “And she is just a child! And... and not just Wendy, but also Webber! You...! You brought him here practically to die!”

"I don't think he would be alive on Earth in one way or another!" the magician said, getting rid of Wilson's hands. “He told you his story, didn't he? A bastard child, raised in a basement, with only spiders for company. I know, better than anyone, that there was no genuine kindness in my act, but I brought him here because the boy was already doomed! He was no longer in good health due to the negligence of the horrible adults who were his caretakers.”

The older man paused, watching Wilson's reaction. The scientist was still furious, but made no move to attack him again. Sighing, Maxwell continued:

“Constant's magic can make death work differently and I was curious to know what could happen to Webber... well, to my surprise, even after death, the spiders took over his body and he came back to life as this hybrid creature. And I dare say that his life has become even easier than that of all the other captives around here.”

"What kind of aborrent logic is that?!" the shorter man stepped forward, threatening to grab the Brit by the collar again. "He is a child! And he was killed by giant spiders! When we get back to Earth, if we ever get back, he will never have a normal life! ”

"You would be surprised to find how many millions of other children on Earth, right now, don't have a 'normal' life! Much less long. Just look at Abigail!” the magician put his hands behind his back, lifting his chin. “As I already said, I have come in contact with thousands of souls on Earth. Many of them in even worse situations than Webber. Again, I didn't do it out of kindness, I did it to collect souls for Constant and satisfy Their hunger in pain and agony. ”

"And why... your own niece?!"

"To be honest, the first time I contacted her, I didn't know she was my niece." Maxwell held his gaze with Wilson to demonstrate that he was speaking the truth. “It was only later, when I understood the circumstances, that I saw what had happened. My brother Jack is an idiot, an imbecile! He inherited our parents' home in Liverpool, which is close to a cliff facing the sea, and he believed it would be a suitable environment to have two children running back and forth. Apparently, Abigail found her death falling from above during a game of tag. Wendy carried a great sense of guilt for the episode, although the girl was not to blame for anything, obviously. She wanted to be reunited with her sister... and you can imagine what could have happened if I hadn't intervened. Yes, it was not an act of great benevolence to bring her to Constant, but at least I managed to prevent my only niece from committing suicide at young age.”

The tremor that went through Wilson's body was visible. Maxwell did not stop smiling a little at that sight, but the smile soon faded.

"There is also something else you need to know." the magician sighed, uncomfortable. “The San Francisco earthquake... the one that happened on April 18, 1906... well, that was my fault. My use of the Codex Umbra magic released the shadows in a great explosion of energy that subsequently hit the tectonic plates and made the city tremble hours later. Charlie and I were doing our last performance the night before, until They came along and... well... you already know what happened. Although it was not even intentional, I was responsible for all those deaths.”

There was a palpable silence between the two men that seemed to last an eternity. Wilson kept his head down at all times.

"Why?" the scientist murmured, his voice was weary. "Why are you telling me all this now?"

“I am telling you this so that you know more clearly who I am. Something you need to know before making a… hasty decision.”

'A hasty decision' ... a strange way of describing something that was not even a decision in the pragmatic sense of the word. You don't choose who you love.

Maxwell was never a social butterfly, but he knew enough about life to know when someone was interested in him. And Wilson was not the type to drop crumbs on the floor, but whole slices of bread. The scientist had developed an affection for the magician that went beyond friendship and Maxwell would lie if he said that those feelings were not reciprocal. However...

... however the last person who was unlucky enough to get involved with him now was a creature made of shadows, sitting on the Nightmare Throne. Wilson deserved better, much better. Who knows, on knowing the darker side of his past, that ‘decision’ could reverse and Wilson could move away from Maxwell - for the scientist’s own sake.

"I ..." the younger man shook his head, still stunned. With difficulty, he looked up. His eyes were on the verge of tears. "... you... you had no idea what the Codex Umbra could do, did you?"

"It makes a difference? My ignorance is no excuse to erase the wrongdoings I have committed.”

"No, it really isn't." Wilson agreed bitterly. "Because of you, many people were injured and died and... were traumatized for the rest of their lives."

"It is true."

“But… will these things continue to happen? I want to know, Maxwell. Now that you have more control over your power and yourself, do you intend to repair the mistakes you made?”

“You’re grasping at straws, Higgsbury...”

"Answer my question!" he exclaimed, annoyed.

The magician took a long breath.

“Of course, yes. I will try to do my best to return you all back to your homes. And preferably, back at your own time. But good intention is not enough, pal. Believe me when I tell you that, even in 1906, my intentions were the best. And see what happened!"

“But you are trying to do your best. I would never blame him for that, even if, in the end, everything went wrong again."

"You don't understand. I can condemn you to a fate worse than death!"

"Maybe, but..." Wilson patted his arms as if he were feeling cold. “Maxwell… I… I know how difficult it can be if I stay close to you, but at the same time, I don't know if my life would be much better without you. After all this time we've been together... No, even before, when I heard your voice on the radio for the first time. I, uh ... oh, stars! I'm afraid I was attracted to you since that time."

"Ugh, Higgsbury!" the Englishman stroked the bridge of his long nose. "What else do I need to say to finally understand that I'm not a good person?"

"And what do I need to say to finally understand that you are not a bad person, but you just made bad choices?!" the scientist approached. “Everyone makes mistakes, Maxwell! Some make more mistakes than others! But I believe in redemption and forgiveness. And I don't think I would feel what I feel for you if you were half the monster you believe you are!"

"My past is perfidious."

"But your future can be bright and full of hope!"

"Oh, pal ..." the tall man bowed his head, defeated. However, this was the kind of defeat that had a pleasant taste. “There is nothing in this world that will stop you when you put an idea in your head, right? Neither the fellow scientists you fought on Earth, nor the dangers of Constant, nor the Darkness... not even me. You don't know how much I tried to get you away from the throne when I realized that you really had a chance to get close to it."

"I know." this time the younger man shortened the distance between them and touched the magician's arm. “The same way you are doing it now. You are trying to scare me, but I already made my decision. Or rather... my heart made this decision for me."

"Heh!" Maxwell touched the scientist's hand and wrapped it in both his hands. “I will never understand how someone like me managed to charm someone like you. And I will never understand how, after everything I did and what I said, you still haven't given up on me."

"Well, what can I say?" Wilson smiled, shortening the distance between them even more. "You've grown on me... like fungus!"

It was a strange comparison, but a true one. After all, fungi absorbed both the power to nourish and to kill. A bet where one walks by the razor's edge. And Wilson was willing to go this route. Until the end.


	7. There and back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our bois' adventures in the Constant come to an end. But... did they continue a new one on Earth?
> 
> (a little bit of Charlie/Maxwell here)

Winters are usually mild in San Francisco, but residents always wear sweaters to protect themselves from the cold air and drizzle. But for Maxwell, born and raised in icy England, that climate was practically a slight freeze spring day. Wearing only his thin jacket, he stepped down from the cable car in front of Golden Gate Park.

Charlie was sitting on a bench, throwing bread crumbs at the birds. Her face lit up when she saw the magician approach.

"You came!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"And were there any chances that I wouldn't come?" he bowed and took her hands, kissing her knuckles. "I wouldn’t miss a date with you for anything in this world!"

"Oh, you!" she giggled, the shy girl. "Well, do you want to go for a walk in the park?"

"With you by my side, I can walk to Oregon!"

"Oh, definitely not!" she made a face. "I prefer to stay in San Francisco, thanks!"

The two walked through the park for almost an hour. They chatted, laughed, talked about their families, about their upcoming shows, ate two Pretzels from a street vendor and kissed under the shade of an oak tree. Red and breathless, they went back to Charlie's apartment.

That night, the two made love for the first time to the sound of a soft ragtime melody. A song that Maxwell would hear again many times in the future. Many.

In January 1906, magician and assistant began a relationship that went beyond the professional. If things had gone as planned, he would propose to Charlie by the end of that year. Depending on how things went in their career, the couple could stay in San Francisco or move to Europe. There were no more impediments or frontiers for the success of the Great Maxwell. Wherever he went, he would be successful. Glory was his destiny.

Until everything goes wrong.

The magician knew that part of that power was greater than he could control, but he imagined that it would be just a matter of time and patience until he mastered the darkness. With effort and dedication, he would be able to achieve his goals. And, hopefully, not putting anyone in danger in the process.

Things started to get out of hand when, in early April, Charlie entered Maxwell's apartment to fetch some of his stage items and discovered... strange things. It can be said that the girl had seen the red flags at that time, so the fault of her cruel fate was not entirely the magician's. Yes, that seemed like an appropriate lie to appease a guilty conscience.

The night they did their last show, a few hours before the incident, Maxwell remembered going to meet Charlie in her dressing room and ended up overhearing a private conversation between her and other women.

All of his assistant's friends had an unpleasant opinion about Maxwell: they said that the Brit was too thin, big-nosed, with lips too thick for a white man, gawky, gloom and scary. But they soon fell silent when the target of their mockery appeared, triumphant and smiling, before them. Charlie was mortified to realize that her boyfriend had heard that, but Maxwell just smirked at those women, demonstrating that their opinion not only didn't worth a rat's ass but these adjectives weren't even on the list of the worst things he had ever thought about himself.

The two went on stage and, while waiting for their turn to perform, they talked:

"It won't be anything too complex today." said the magician, adjusting his tie. "I will make the book appear in my hands and you will only need to hold it while I do my magic things."

"Isn't this dangerous, Maxy?"

"Dangerous?" the man found the question strange. Charlie had never worried about that before. "No of course not. I have everything under control.”

"Do you really think you can control the Darkness?" the woman gave an enigmatic smile. "Maybe they are a little too much for you."

"Bollocks!" Maxwell was offended by that statement. “I know exactly what I'm doing, Charlie! And why this doubt now? You never questioned my methods before!”

"It’s because now I know what is going to happen."

The magician's eyes widened, stunned. When he looked around, the stage was gone. The theatre too. There was no longer the sound of the impatient audience waiting on the other side of the curtain. Everything was silence and darkness.

"C-Charlie?!"

Before him was the Queen of Darkness, the Lady of Nightmares, the Ruler of Constant. The woman who was Charlotte Adams was, curiously, taller than Maxwell remembered. Dressed in black, with a blood-red flower in her hair, she approached the Englishman with a smile.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, sweetly.

"A lot." the magician took a step forward, thinking of embracing her, but stopped himself. "Oh, Charlie... I'm so sorry! I'm really sorry!"

"I know." the woman looked down. “One of my powers is to feel the pain and suffering that a person carries in his soul. I know you regret it, Maxwell.”

"Yes..." he murmured, uncertain. “Yes, I had a lot of time to regret it. Too much time to hate myself! I would do anything, absolutely anything to undo everything I did!”

The woman watched him with curiosity.

“Be careful what you say, William Carter. You too, in the past, said you would do anything to become a highly successful magician.”

The man was speechless for a moment.

"Yes it's true. I... I'm sick of making mistakes. Because of me, hundreds... thousands of people lost their lives that fateful morning in San Francisco! And more others had their lives ruined, and others ended when I brought them to Constant. I really don't know what to do to repair my mistakes, if they can even be repaired, though.”

"Repair..." the woman echoed, the expression on her face changing little by little. “Broken things can be fixed, Maxwell. But things... shattered? These are lost for EVER!!!”

Charlie's hand wrapped around the magician's neck in a powerful, icy grip. A similar feeling when he was swallowed by darkness and inside Constant. The worst day of his life, when Charlie was taken away from him and he was arrested on the Throne, his mind polluted by Them, making him believe that he would be a powerful king on that narrow board called Constant.

"You shattered me, Maxy!" was the woman's accusation, lifting him off the ground with his long arm made of darkness. “You, in your arrogance, destroyed my life and the lives of others! Darkness is hungry, but it wouldn't have touched me if you hadn't instigated it! _You_ did it! _You_ are a monster!"

If there were conditions to the air to pass through his windpipe, Maxwell would say 'yes'. He would agree with all the charges. Hell, he wasn't even trying very hard to get Charlie's claws out of his throat. He wanted her to kill him. And this time, he wanted his death to be final.

 _Charlie, I know I'm to blame!_ he thought, hoping the woman could read his mind. _You're right, I don't deserve your forgiveness. Neither yours nor anyone else's! Just... get it over with, please!_

As he felt that his conscience was fading, the usual scenes of ‘life passing before the eyes’ began to appear in the magician’s mind.

His poor but happy childhood in Liverpool. His passion for the stage when he saw the circus for the first time. His first failed attempts at the theatre. The disgust of his family to discover that he would follow the path of the vaudevillians. His decision to immigrate to the United States. His desperate escape from the mafia in New York. The train accident. The discovery of the Codex Umbra. His powers beginning to manifest. Charlie's presence in his life, like a beacon of light that suddenly… went out. And then Darkness. Only Darkness.

And then, another light.

In a totally unexpected way, a lonely and frustrated soul with his destiny appeared in his life. A situation similar to Maxwell's: reneged by the family for his choices, both professional and personal. The decision to pursue his destiny alone, although he lacked more knowledge in the field. The bargain made by knowledge and power. And then... the disaster. Yes, a situation very similar to that of the man who was William Carter.

Charlie let go of the magician's neck just before he lost consciousness. Falling to the ground, choking on air, he began to return to the present.

"You love him, don't you?" the woman's voice was practically a purr.

"Accck... w-wha... what ...?"

“You love this boy, Wilson. I confess that this really surprised me. In fact, I was more surprised that the young scientist loved you back. This relationship of friendship, and even love, that certain captives have for their captors is strange, isn't it?”

"Ugh...!" Maxwell didn’t know what to say to that horrible statement. "If I... if I could change his mind..."

"Why? Don't you love him? Why would you wish he didn't love you back?”

"Because... I don't want him to have the same fate as you, my dear." the magician sighed in defeat. “Everything I touch is contaminated forever... everything! I already made a terrible mistake with you. I don't want to repeat it!”

Charlie smiled. And this time, her smile seemed genuine. The Darkness that surrounded her body dissipated for an instant and she knelt beside the magician. There was tenderness in her eyes.

"This is not your decision, Maxy." she put her hand on his shoulder. "Just as you weren't the one who decided to stay with me."

"Charlie...?! But...!"

“I also have regrets. And my biggest thing was that I didn't try to dissuade you from continuing to use your dark powers as soon as I found out you were using them. But... ”she took his face in her hands. “... but I must admit that, in spite of everything, I don't regret staying by your side. Despite the unfortunate ending this fairy tale had, I must admit that the months we were together were the happiest months of my life.”

The man opened his eyes wide, not knowing what to say. Charlie was saying this from the bottom of her heart, without being manipulated by the Darkness or anything like that. There was still bitterness in her voice, but there was also love. Despite everything, she never stopped loving Maxwell. The heart has both the power to forgive stronger and the power of revenge. Light and Darkness fighting forever.

And to show that she was serious the woman kissed him.

 _Is this really happening?_ thought the magician, with his eyes closed as he felt the girl's tongue dance with his. _Charlie... you... this is so much more than I deserve._

 _Truth._ the woman thought, without taking her lips from Maxwell's. _But I'm already tired of hating you. And I don't want to make the same mistakes that you did. Wilson, that boy is a good man, but you already know that, don't you? I think he deserves his reward._

"Uh?!" the Englishman moved away from the woman, stunned. "What... what do you mean...?"

At this moment, Charlie's face began to be gradually taken over by the Darkness again. Her expression started to squirm.

"No, no! Pain! Blood! Death! This is what we like!” she grabbed the magician by the collar. "This is what we...!"

And then, she released him. And the Darkness disappeared from her face.

"Shut up!" the woman screamed, looking up. “You’ve already destroyed too many lives! I will not allow you to continue doing this!”

"Charlie?!"

"Maxy." she looked deep into the magician's eyes. “You and the others have little time. Do what you do best: your magic! Use it in conjunction with your new boyfriend's science. If you work together for the next few hours, I can make the barrier that They created that prevented you from coming home be lowered. Do this and you can go back to the real world. At the time that each one of you was before you entered Constant. But hurry up!”

"Charlie... wait! But how about you?! Aren't you going to come back with us?!”

The woman's response was a sad smile. And then she snapped her fingers.

Maxwell woke up sweating in his tent. Beside him, Wilson slept soundly.

They had little time.

.................................................

"Are you sure this will work?" Willow asked suspiciously. "We have been here for so long that I have given up hope..."

"Yes, it will work!" Maxwell said, categorically.

"It’s not the first time that we have gathered the materials to restore the portal." said Mrs Wickerbotton, watching Metal Potato Thing and Ring Thing. "But all we were able to archive was to go to another world very similar to the previous one."

"This time it will work, I guarantee it!" the magician insisted. "This time the veil of Darkness will be lowered, and along with my knowledge and that of Wilson, I will be able to return you all home!"

“Everyone? And my sister?" Winon asked him, wincing. "Is she coming back with us?"

"No." Maxwell didn't even think about lying. Even if that seemed like the best solution. “It’s she who is sitting on the throne of nightmare right now. She's the one who is going to lower the veil of Darkness. She will not coming back with us.”

"What?! So, nu-uh!" the woman said, clenching her fists. "We are either going back with Charlie or we’re not going to do that!"

"And will you deny others the chance to return home?" the magician gestured to the other survivors. “Miss Adams, you have every right to hate me. You even have the right to kill me, if you want, but do it when we're on Earth.”

"Why, you great son of a...!"

The woman advanced on the Englishman, who didn’t move. The eyes of all the other survivors were on her. She was about to punch him, but hesitated. Her eyes were filled with hate.

"Do you think Charlie wants you to stay here?" Maxwell asked. At this point, he didn't care if the answer to his question was a pair of broken ribs and a dislocated jaw. "Do you really think your sister would be happy to know that you missed a chance... maybe the last chance you have... to go home?"

"Ugh... you bastard!" Winona dropped her fists, sighing. “Well, know that I won't give up on rescuing my sister! Never!"

“When we get back to Earth, you can look for me in San Francisco. If I'm still alive in 1919, I'll be happy to help you, as long as it doesn't involve putting anyone else in danger.”

"Wait... 1919 ?!" Wilson, who had been quiet until that moment, even when Maxwell was threatened by Winona, finally said: "Are we going back to the year 1919?"

"If all goes well, all of you will go back to the respective years in which you were abducted." Maxwell explained. “I can't be sure, but there is a good chance that this will happen. At least that's what Charlie promised me.”

"What if all this is just a trap?" Willow asked, concerned. “What if this conversation you had with the Queen of Nightmares is just a trap to make us even more stuck in this place? Or can we end up going to a worse place?”

There was a palpable silence that lasted a few moments while everyone looked at each other.

"I trust Charlie." Maxwell said at last. “I'm going to do this. But you are all free to not do this, if you don't want to.”

"I... I trust Charlie, too." said Winona, sad. “And I'm already tired of standing here, doing nothing. I'm going to move on, as crazy as this plan sounds!”

"Great. So, let's get back to our work. We don’t have much time!"

The survivors returned to their duties. Even the children, Webber and Wendy, were helping to rebuild the portal. Maxwell flipped through his book to find the magic necessary to activate it and barely noticed when Wilson approached him.

“Hm? What's it?"

"Max..." he murmured, holding the magician's hand. "If I go back to my own time, it will be 1921... you... uh..." he looked down, feeling moved.

“Yeah, if I'm still alive, I'm going to be an old man. Older than I am now. Maybe you don't want me anymore…”

“What?! Nonsense!” the scientist exclaimed. “That's not what concerns me! I just… I… uh, do you promise to wait for me?"

"Wilson." the tall man leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I would like to be sure that, all this time, I will still be breathing on Earth. But know this: I will do anything to stay alive while I wait for you.”

"It will be a long time." the scientist murmured. “Fifteen years, isn't it? Well... if you, uh... if you want to be with someone else in the meantime... "

"Don’t be silly." the magician shook his head. "What sense is there in being content with the light of a candle if I know that a bright sun will be promised to me in the future?"

Wilson's eyes widened and he smiled with emotion. He leaned over and kissed Maxwell again, wishing it wasn't the last kiss between them.

..............................................

The machine was ready. The magic circle was active. The survivors stood before the disabled portal.

"Now, throw the switch."

Wilson had an unpleasant feeling of _déja vu_ with that sentence.

"Do it!"

 _Dejá vu_ increased. And he pulled the switch, hoping the result would be better than the last time.

.................................................

"Have you lost your mind, Percival?" a man with an austere face and a beard in the shape of an 'M' scolded his son. “This kind of career is only for men who are hardworking and blessed with great intelligence from birth! Your grades have been little better than average over the years!”

"Don't you believe in your own son?!" young Wilson's voice was filled with hurt.

"I am saying this for your own good!" the man insisted, crossing his arms. “Give up this crazy idea of being a scientist and inventor! You will never be better than Thomas Edison! Why start a race already knowing you are going to lose?”

“This is not the point! This is not a race!” the young man insisted. “I'm not doing this to be better than Thomas Edson, Nicola Tesla or any other great inventor out there. I'm doing this for me! Science is my passion!”

"What's the use of having a passion for something you are bad at?"

If his father had punched him and broken his jaw, it would have hurt less. Old Higgsbury had no confidence in his son. He would never accept that Wilson would pursue a foolish dream when there was much more chance for him to have a stable but monotonous job at the same company he worked for his entire life.

"With effort and dedication, I know that I can be good!" that sentence, despite being had with intensity, carried doubts. Wilson, more than anyone, knew his own limitations. And that infuriated him. He wanted much, much more knowledge.

And they would pursue knowledge in every way possible. He would look for knowledge in books, in meetings with other scientists, in lectures, in his field research... every opportunity he could acquire more knowledge, he would grab it tooth and nail.

“Say, pal! Looks like you’re having some trouble!”

The voice on the radio was strangely familiar. Wilson had heard it before.

“I have secret knowledge I can share with you, if you think you’re ready for it!”

"Maxwell ?!" it was strange and uncomfortable for reasons Wilson could not explain. “Why are you talking to me over the radio? Where are you?"

"I'm where I never should have left, pal..." the voice on the radio was different. More tired and sad. "And you're going back to the place you should never have left."

It was like a kind of invisible barrier that prevented the total understanding of the situation. Wilson heard the words, but their true meaning did not reach his mind. Never before has he felt so ignorant in his life.

“Maxwell, please! Tell me what's going on! I cannot understand!"

"It all sssssstarted because… you were after... sssssssecret knowledge..." the voice started to get more and more distant and hissing, as if the signal was losing strength.

"Maxwell!" the scientist grabbed the radio with both hands while shouting at the device. "Please, don’t go! Don’t leave me alone! I beg of you!"

"Wilssssssson..." the voice was almost gone. “Palaassssssccccce Hotel ... Ssssssssan Francissssssco...”

"MAX-!"

An explosion of darkness destroyed the radio. The scientist found himself enveloped in complete darkness. Panicking, he started screaming.

“Maxwell! Maaaaaaxweeeell!” he stumbled in the dark, trying to find something, anything, where he could lean.

And then, he grabbed someone's hand.

A small, smooth, but cold hand. It certainly wasn't the magician's hand.

A light went on and Wilson could see Charlie's face.

"Ah... you?!" for a moment he didn't know whether meeting the woman was good or bad. “Charlie! Do you... do you know where Maxwell is?”

She smiled candidly.

"Do you love him that much?"

The question was straightforward and Wilson was not compelled to hesitate or lie.

"Yes I love him."

"Even after everything he did to you?"

"Yes." never before in his life did Wilson Percival Higgsbury say anything with such conviction. Not even when he faced his father with his desire to become a scientist was he so sure of life. "I love Maxwell."

"I understand." Charlie gave a friendly pat on the scientist's hand. "Then take care of him in my place, please."

And then, the Darkness disappeared to make way for another type of darkness - with a tiny 'd'.

And Wilson opened his eyes.

"Wha... what ?!" he was lying on the floor. The portal he had built many lives ago was dismounted before him, as if it had never been built in the first place.

He was back on Earth, he was back in the forests of Connecticut, his home, his laboratory.

He was back.

"My house!" he exclaimed, euphoric. "Ah... I'm back! I'M BACK!!!"

Fortunately, he had no neighbours, or they would hear his screams of happiness until the next block. But after the euphoria passed, Wilson remembered something very, very important.

"A newspaper...!" he murmured, running to the door. "I need a newspaper!"

The scientist took a thirty-minute walk to get to the nearest city. Living isolated in the middle of the forest had its disadvantages. He went to a newsstand and looked at the cover of one.

The date was July 15, 1921. Wilson couldn't say precisely what day he walked through the portal, but he was pretty sure it was early summer. If he was right, then the time he spent at Constant was probably no more than a few days on Earth. Maybe even before, since the portal was dismounted. This comforted him.

But at the same time, worried.

_Palace Hotel... San Francisco._

_Take care of him in my place, please._

............................

It was the middle of the afternoon on July 17, 1921 when Wilson arrived in San Francisco.

In those two days he was getting used to the real world again, he noticed that some things were different. Apparently the old Voxola factory, destroyed in 1919, never suffered any kind of damage. _Does this mean that Winona has returned safe at home and in her own time?_ he thought, happy for the woman. The circus where Wolfgang said he participated, and which was ruined in 1913, when he was captured, continued to function normally. Several small details, others that he could not check personaly (like going to Canada or England to see if Woodie and Wendy were okay) all seemed to be in place.

But Wilson's biggest surprise was to discover that the San Francisco earthquake never happened.

Several buildings and theatres that had been destroyed, and that were never rebuilt, remained intact. In particular, the famous Palace Hotel, which had been destroyed in the earthquake (and rebuilt in 1906, but not with the same grandeur as in the past) remained the same as the old photos. It was the same building, it was not a reconstruction.

And if things had gone as planned, Maxwell was there.

_What if he isn't?_

Wilson felt his heart sink as soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the building. The fear he felt was very great. _Is Maxwell still alive?_ he thought, feeling a bad emotion well up in his chest. After all, in fifteen years, many things could have changed. And Earth was no less dangerous than Constant. _What if the other survivors had gone looking for him to take revenge?_ although none of them seemed to want to strangle the magician anymore, that was not a guarantee.

 _And if he’s still alive... does he still love me?_ it was another good question. Who could guarantee that he would remain faithful to the scientist after all these years? A lot could happen in the meantime. A lot.

"Excuse?" the hotel porter watched the scientist for a long time. “You have been standing there for ten minutes. Do you want to enter?”

“Uh? Ah, yes...!"

With unsteady steps, Wilson entered the hotel. The butler who received all the new guests came to greet him.

“Welcome to the Palace Hotel! Do you want a room, sir?”

"No... I mean, yes! But... but before this, I ... need to meet another guest of yours that must already be here.”

"And who would it be, sir?"

"Max-" Wilson bit his lip, correcting himself. "William Carter."

“Oh! Are you a friend of the grand magician?” the butler looked surprised. “Yes, he is at the hotel. He has been here for many years, I would say! Please, follow me!”

Wilson's heart skipped two beats when he heard that. Maxwell was there!

_But... is he still the same? In heart?_

The scientist was ushered into the hotel's smoking room. The place was empty, except for a silent figure who silently smoked a cigar. A 55-year-old man with grey hair, sitting in an armchair. He was looking towards a window, his eyes lost, as if he were waiting for someone to come.

As if he's been waiting for someone to come for a long, long time.

"Mr. Carter?" the butler called. "You have a visitor."

The Englishman turned his head slowly and his eyes shone with emotion when he saw the scientist. Yes, after all those years, his feelings hadn't changed.

Maxwell started to get up from the chair, but Wilson was faster. He ran up to him, hugging him. They were reunited again. For the scientist, it seemed like just two days of separation, but for Maxwell... oh, he had to wait fifteen years. Wilson wanted to cry when he thought about it.

And it was only when the butler finally bowed politely and left the room that the two allowed themselves a kiss.

The first kiss for the rest of their lives.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long." Wilson murmured, still with Maxwell in his arms.

"Alright, pal." the tall man stroked the scientist's red face. “We are together now. And we will be together until the end.”

"Yes of course!" he held the magician's hands tenderly. “And… and Charlie? She really didn't make it back, did she?”

The magician looked down sadly.

"Well... I'm sorry for her, but... you know, she asked me to look after you.”

"Did she ask you that?!" the magician looked surprised. "Oh... yes, I think so. She was quite a gal."

"Yes, and I intend to take care of you for my entire life, if you allow it!" he kissed the old man's knuckle. "Well, now that I'm here, what do you want to do first?"

"Hmmm, let’s see." Maxwell glanced toward the window. It was almost late in the afternoon. He gave a soft laugh before saying, "We better find something to eat before night comes!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for accompanying me to the end!
> 
> I hope to write some more things with these two adorable idiots soon!


End file.
